


A Dance of Dragons

by Iane_Casey



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Bookshelf sex, Couch Sex, Daario is a fuckboi, Elia and Rhaegar are both alive, Elia pretty much raised Jon and Dany as her own, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Jon and Dany wanna fuck and they do, Modern Westeros, Modern Westerosi Incest, Olenna is forever badass, all with Dany's shoes still strapped on, almost entirely smut, and an enabler, jk, poor babies tried to fight it but they simply couldn't, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iane_Casey/pseuds/Iane_Casey
Summary: People would think her mad, to be so drawn to her nephew, to want to draw him inside her body, but there was no fighting what she felt. And it wouldn't take much for him to give in, she was certain, for he didn't look at her as though she was his aunt. No, he looked at her with such desire she trembled from it.





	A Dance of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliciutza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliciutza/gifts), [ValDeCastille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValDeCastille/gifts), [atetheredmind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/gifts), [jalen_mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalen_mara/gifts), [TheScarletGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletGarden/gifts), [notpmaHleM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpmaHleM/gifts), [NoOrdinaryLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOrdinaryLines/gifts), [NorthernLights37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernLights37/gifts), [iamsmall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsmall/gifts), [toaquiprashippar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toaquiprashippar/gifts), [LustOnMyFingers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustOnMyFingers/gifts), [CallMeDeWitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeDeWitt/gifts), [RoneOfHouseTargaryen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoneOfHouseTargaryen/gifts), [Open_Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Open_Sky/gifts), [phoebemaybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebemaybe/gifts).



> Suuuuurprise, my bishes! Trying to catch up for Christmas, but totally in time to help end your New Year with a BAAAAANG! Or two... well- if we count Dany's-
> 
> ANYWAY, thank you for being part of my 2018- you all have made it soooo much more colourful than I had expected it to be, after moving and all. I look forward to ranting and raving with y'all as the new and final season approaches. I love you guys! *big, big big group hug* Here's to more inappropriate eggplan-slash-dildo-condom-sheathing and ketchup-bottle-licking-hotdog gifs. 
> 
> So... we had a chat about guilty pleasures and Jonerys kinks... so... I'm just giving you naughty, naughty people what you asked for. *wipes sweat off brow*
> 
> \---
> 
> Thank you to ValDeCastille for my first moodboard everrr (yes, this was planned long before my other moodboards got made xD)! 
> 
> And thank you to Adecila for the beta service! You enabler, you. Never stop. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Final warning, this contains modern aunt/nephew incest in a modern-day Westerosi setting. If anyone's uncomfortable with that PLEASE close this page now. I have puppies and lizards (or canon boatsex) in my other works. ;) 
> 
> Without further ado... enjoy my first (and probably last?) foray into this funky tag! Probs leave me some love if you liked it. ;)

Daenerys loved long, flowing dresses; they made her feel powerful. The one she wore tonight, however, was not as flowy, but it still managed to make her feel invincible, and so much more. She’d purposely worn it to try and get his attention.

 _Jon’s_ attention.

With a plunging neckline that exposed the creamy tops of her breasts, and a slit from the back of her knees, her pale, lustrous skin was bare for anyone who wanted a glimpse, but it was all meant for _him_.

As black as the night sky, her gown swept the ballroom with its simple and sleek elegance, catching eyes left and right from men and women alike. Radiant, her diamonds twinkled like the stars, making her shine brighter, complementing her infamous Targaryen traits.

Like Mother, she commanded the room, Rhaegar had whispered to her earlier that night, her heart clenching as she longed for a woman she’d only known through the mouths of those who had known her.

Taking a long pull from her glass of wine, she cleared her thoughts, searching the crowd for eyes that never failed to set her ablaze. Eyes that have never been able to hide from her.

 _There_.

Jon was standing in a corner by the bar, the energy of his brooding palpable even from where she stood. Or maybe she just knew him too well. He was not unalike Rhaegar in that regard; Jon, too, had his moments of melancholy and deep brooding, too contemplative of the past, present, and the future.

Onyx eyes molten in their stare followed her, and she watched as his throat bobbed when he swallowed his bourbon. A strong urge to lick the line of his throat washed over her.

A woman caught her attention, and her mask slid back in its place, shielding her and her nephew from any scrutiny or gossip from the observant public. She was certain they were just waiting for the shoe to drop on a Targaryen scandal. Jon had been the last they’d preyed upon, but Rhaegar had taken care of it, paying news outlets to recant everything they had written and warning them not to write a single scathing thing about his son with the late Lyanna Stark lest he called upon his connections. Her brother’s wife had once mentioned that it had been the only time Rhaegar had ever been as mad.

Elia herself had told her everything. The formidable yet loving Dornish woman had become a mother figure to both her and Jon, who was a mere year older than she was. Elia loved and cared for Jon as her own, not once making him feel an outsider though his features were so visibly northern, taking after his mother.

As her duties demanded, Daenerys socialised, chatting with this important person and that, getting her hands dirty and, at times, biting the inside of her cheek in order to have people sign checks for the charities that their family supported. They had great funding, but every single donation mattered, and she was more than willing to charm their benefactors if it meant they were able to help more people.  

Tonight, that was her primary purpose at the holiday gala.

Most days she headed Business Development for their global brand of full-service five-star hotels and resorts. When she wasn’t as busy she dabbled in jewellery design and attended meetings for their luxury goods business, Dragonstone, fittingly named after their family-owned castle and the mountain it partially sat upon that was a mine for not only its namesake but diamonds and other precious stones alike.

The heat of his stare bored into her even when she was not looking, sending currents of desire to trickle from the pit of her stomach to the growing wetness between her legs.

There was no greater thrill than knowing his eyes had been on her the entire evening; keeping watch, leering, admiring, _glaring_ even. Through all the emotions that flitted through those sexy, brooding eyes, it was the barely contained lust that was the final straw for her.

He wanted her, had wanted her for a long time, she knew, but they'd never talked about it- _couldn't_.

To Daenerys, there was no better time to act on how she felt than that night. They had skirted around one another for far too long and she simply craved his taste, had dreamt of his touch. She squeezed her legs together to contain the incessant throb of her cunt at the thought of him inside her.

A dangerous game they were playing, she and Jon. Their flirting had only gotten beautifully worse these past few months, and she had treasured every moment they interacted.

It was forbidden, what they were inevitably careening towards, but they hadn't done anything wrong.

Yet.

Even if they had, their ancestors had been known for their incestuous affairs. Incestuous _marriages-_ her own mother and father were siblings.

It was simply known. Not so long ago people would not have batted an eye.

It was why they’ve been called mad on numerous occasions.

Nowadays, incest was frowned upon in the society they lived in. It had become taboo.

Such need blazed within her, her blood heated as it raced throughout her system, yearning for Jon who simply wouldn't give in. He looked at her with such need and guilt she couldn't take it. As though she both disgusted and aroused him to no end.

Briefly she wondered how something so wrong felt wondrously right, _fated_ , even. What if they’d been fashioned by the Gods for one another?

Through the years they had only grown closer, the small gap in their age not helpful as they had always been together at school and even in university.

Best friends, relatives, and, if she had her way by the end of the night, lovers. Truly, more than just a lover, she wanted him to be hers just as much as she was already his.

People would think her mad, to be so drawn to her nephew, to want to draw him inside her body, but there was no fighting what she felt.

She'd fought it long enough, had tamped it down in fear of judgment, had chastised herself for being so wanton, so _sinful_. But more than lust, she loved him. More than she should. More than what was accepted in the society and time they’d grown up in.

Daenerys was done fighting.

A dragon, she was. A _Targaryen_. She would not bow down to societal customs only recently bought into by people who wouldn’t even be able to understand.

Daenerys was done telling herself it was wrong to want him, whose blood she shared through her brother.

Jon was not; she could not blame him. The love he held for his father ran deep, and rightly so, for Rhaegar was simply wonderful, but she wished Jon would fight for them as hard as she was. She wished his desire to be with her far outweighed his concern for what people would say. His concern of how his father would react. There was only so much she could do to reassure him, for there were no reassurances that things would be easy if or when they chose to cross that line.

Months ago, they nearly had, by _his_ instigation, but he'd pulled away before she was able to deepen their kiss, cursing the Gods, cursing _himself_ as he walked away.

Feeling a headache coming, Daenerys chose to steal another glass of wine from a server. She took a sip, allowing the velvety liquid to douse the burning need within her, if only momentarily.

"Found you." _Daario_.

She wondered if Viserys had invited him just to rile her up. Her sweet brother did always know how to push her buttons, always prided himself for being so clever.

It did not help Viserys’ pride and ego that Rhaegar had given her more responsibility in the running of their business and their middle sibling had been forced to stay at his current post. He was by no means a slacker, but he simply couldn’t do better than his current designation.

Daenerys’ ambitious nature and inherent business acumen made her work harder to prove herself, and it had paid off, making Rhaegar trust her more than Viserys. His fragile masculinity had never been able to recover. He did try to strive to show that he could handle more, but Viserys was simply ambition without talent, and an unhealthy dose of entitlement.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Daario innocently, turning to find him looking sharp in his navy blue tux. His hair was slicked back, making him look roguish. She didn’t care.

The man grinned, scratching at his beard with a thumb, "Vis invited me. Said you might be lonely tonight, that you might need a friend."

The gall! She scoffed, indignant. Why was she not surprised?

"Daario," she whispered, gritting her teeth, recalling the misery of having lost nearly two years of her life being with him. "We broke up a year ago."

She'd been infatuated- almost obsessed with him. Looking at the man now, she wondered what she ever saw in him that had made her want him so. He was nothing more than a narcissistic man who had an insatiable fetish for bedding and commanding powerful women.

"I've missed you terribly, Daenerys," he said, one hand sliding to the small of her back to pull her against him.  
She pulled away before he could press her further against him, disgusted by his boldness.

"I can have you thrown out by Security," she warned, eyes fiery.

"One word," he said, a hand up in between them in entreaty. "I just need five minutes, and I swear to your blasted Gods I'll leave."

Daenerys should have known better than to agree but there was his promised departure, and she would rather not have to worry about having to look over her shoulder to see him boring a hole through the back of her head.

“Fine,” she bit out, almost growling. “Five minutes. And not here,” she gestured towards the closest exit. “Follow me.”

His answering grin should have clued her in on his intentions, but she wanted him gone more than she wanted to wonder about anything he’d attempt to do. She was at home-Dragonstone was one of the safest places in Westeros.

“You have quite the nerve showing up tonight.” He didn’t respond, simply followed her out of the Great Hall and into the closest drawing room.

When they had both entered, Daario closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Why are you playing hard-to-get?” Of course, he would try and disregard her abject derision at his boldness to still pursue her after everything. The rose-coloured lenses had shattered the moment she’d caught him sleeping with that horrendous director from Legal, in the loft they’d shared in King’s Landing.

“There is a difference between playing hard-to-get and simply being uninterested, Daario,” she scoffed, trying her best to maintain her composure. “I am the latter. Why have you come?” she asked again, her patience wearing thin.

Scratching his beard with the blunt nail of his thumb, Daario shook his head and pushed off of the door, slowly approaching her as his hands slid into his front pockets. Casually, disturbingly, he got closer, his eyes visibly dilating.

Instinctively, she took steps backward as he neared, her skin crawling from the darkening of his blue gaze.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Jon.”

Hackles raised, her head snapped from the floor to meet his ice-cold eyes head-on, challenging him to continue.

“Your _nephew_ ,” he spat, jealousy clear in his menacing tone.

Ramrod straight her back defensively stiffened, fingers coming up to join one another by her stomach, nails digging into palms as she confronted her ex.

“I don’t think that is any business of yours,” she calmly replied, an eyebrow rising as she added.

“You’ve _fucked_ him, haven’t you?” The venom in his growl made the fire in her blood roar violently, the insinuation making her want to gouge his eyes out.

 _Let him go mad wondering_ , Daenerys thought as she sidestepped him to literally walk away from the pointless conversation. Before she managed to get a hand on the door knob he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the side of the door, his front pressed flush against her.

“Let me go,” she bristled, turning her head to the side as his face hovered dangerously closer to hers.

“Or you’ll scream?” he laughed darkly, trying to nudge her knees apart but failing to do so. “I distinctly remember I liked it when you did.”

There was no doubt she should have been frightened, but she still knew this man and his games. Knew he would not dare do what he was nearly acting out doing. With Security in the premises and the wrath of the Targaryens to fear, he would not dare lay a finger on her. His business stood to lose Targaryen funding if he did.

When he still didn’t step back to let her go she worked with the space she had and kneed him in the groin, hard.

Daario doubled over, gasping and then groaning from the pain, hands over his crotch.

“Leave, Daario,” she demanded, breathing heavily from her rage. “Don’t you dare come back.”

The man had the audacity to glare at her before leaving the drawing room, his hands still cupping his groin as he slammed the door shut.

Exhaling, Daenerys took a breath, her heart pounding wildly in its cavity.

_You’re fine, Dany, you’re okay._

The moment she shivered she knew Daario had still won. He had gotten to her. Had wheedled his way back into her psyche.

_I need Jon._

_I need him._

The door swung open and she frantically tried to collect herself, steeling her spine for a fight she was hardly prepared for if that cursed man returned.

But he hadn’t. Relief washed over her.

[ ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/3bec388a614ccdc4266f8a6e19bdec5a/tumblr_puumliQvY81woe640o2_r1_1280.jpg)

“Jon.” She whispered, her voice trembling.

“I saw Daario,” he gutturally said, unable to hide the hatred in his voice. Fists clenching at his sides, he delicately asked her, “Did he do anything?”

She shook her head as she closed the distance between them, slamming him against the door, shutting it in the process.

“Dany…”

“Just hold me,” she begged, keeping her tears at bay.

The scent of him was such a balm to her frayed nerves and shook spirit, it took a while for his bubbling rage to register. He was vibrating with the anger running through his veins.

“Did he touch you?” Dark, his voice was so dark she feared that if she said yes he would leave her and go after Daario to strangle the man with his bare hands.

Thankfully, it was true that Daario hadn’t had the chance to lay a finger on her.

“No,” she breathed, the fingers clutching at his back loosening their grip as she slowly relaxed into the comforting feel of his hands securing her to him, soothing her like one would a spooked horse. It felt good.

Soon, her focus shifted from her traumatising encounter to the amazing smell of Jon wrapped around her.

Moving her head she settled her nose at the dip at the base of his throat and breathed him in as much as she could, drowning herself with the comfort of his presence and the warmth of his body embracing hers.

“Dany,” he warned, a warm hand cupping her nape and striking the match to relight her desire once again. She was too far gone.

Locking the door, she pushed him against it and pressed feather-light kisses to his neck, making her way up his jawline. When she reached his ear she bit it playfully before drawing back to see his eyes turn hazy with lust.

"You just won't stop until you get what you want, will you?" Dany shivered at the gruffness of his rhetorical question.

A sly grin stretched her lips, and she emerged from his neck with a frown, playing the unaffected party.

"What do I want, Jon?" She feigned concern to rile him up. To get exactly what they both knew she wanted from him.

The thick doors of the drawing room shielded them from the harsh world, the blaring sounds of the party muted as they stood there, fed the tension with their silence.

"We _can't_ ," Jon breathed, the desire in his voice hardly controlled while his need to have her simply emanated from the fiery depths of his gaze. She drowned in his eyes, watching the fight slowly leave him.

He cupped her hip and tentatively pulled her close. Leaning his brow to hers as he slowly let go, he defeatedly whispered, "You know we can't."

"I know you want me, Jon." With her hands anchored around his neck she arched her back as her hips jut forward, causing him seek refuge in the curve of her neck.

"Fuck, Dany," Jon cursed as he sought her lips before she could retort, immediately silencing anything else she could say to coax him into action.

Oh, but he tasted like the bourbon he'd had and the sweet tart of the lemoncakes she saw him pluck from a tray.

She sought his tongue, brushing and tangling hers with his before drawing it into her mouth to sample further. Soft, they were, and she luxuriated in the taste and feel of him, intoxicated, breathing as much of him as she could.

When they parted both her hands slid to his chest, and she looked up to study his reaction, to watch his eyes.

"You're my _aunt_ ," Jon mumbled even as he claimed her lips again, a slight edge to his tone, but not disgust, _never_ disgust.

"Targaryens have done far worse, in the past," Dany reasoned. “I can no longer deny what I feel for you. Seven Hells take whoever says I can’t have you.”

Groaning, Jon lifted her in his arms and carried her to the nearest surface, which was the bookshelf to his right, an entire wall fashioned into shelves lined with books in varying sizes and thickness.

Fingers threading through his curly mane she tilted her head to the side to unlatch his mouth from her throat.

Looking into his eyes, she nearly pleaded, “Tell me I’m not alone in this, Jon.”

“Aye, Dany. I’m here. I’m yours,” he breathed against her mouth as he usurped her lips once more, finally claiming something that had been his for a long time.

* * *

Plump and soft, her lips were pillows of absolute euphoria, claiming and giving in. Lips, teeth, and tongues tangled, nipped and clashed in the dizzying tempest of their unslakable thirst to taste. The feel of her limbs around him grounded him and his overworked mind, staying thoughts of how they should not succumb to this depravity, this forbidden love. But she felt so perfect in his arms, her mouth slotted so perfectly with his, was so mesmerizingly wrapped around him with what she wore and her bare skin brushing against the sleekness of his tux. Surely, the Gods had fashioned her solely for him?

Losing himself to her and not his thoughts, for once, Jon buried his face at the dip of her dress, taking in the calming scent of lavender and something wholly her he could not name. Her chest rumbled at a moan as he teased her skin with his wiry beard, enjoying the quiet sounds he elicited. A breathless wisp of air escaped her at the brush of his lips over a pert globe, and then the other, a hand joining to squeeze lightly over the fabric of her dress.

Dainty fingers grasped at his curls, clutching and releasing as he peppered kisses over her skin, doing his best not to suck and sample, to not _mark_ her.

Moving quickly back up her body he laved at the valley in between her breasts, playfully bit her jugular, nipped and licked the shell of her ear, and then found her mouth again.

Groaning, his cock throbbed in anticipation, excited by her quickness to draw his tongue into her mouth. She drew him closer, arms slung over his shoulders and crossed behind his neck to lock him in place, fingers in sync with her mouth as they toyed with his curls and raked across his scalp.

Lost to the glory of having her, in that moment, Jon hardly cared about anything else.

She was his.

 _His_.

If she only knew how long he’d been hers, only hers.

With that thought he deepened the kiss, exhaling through his nose to prolong their connection, to not have to pull away, in fear of losing her again, losing this moment where only they mattered.

Hands snaked from his head to his chest to his arse, pulling him flush against her, making him groan at the feel of her heat through the fabric of her dress. Aroused, he gathered the fabric of her dress with as much restraint not to rip it as he could muster, so he could be closer to her.

Unable to help himself, he grazed her barely covered cunt with his fingers, making her shudder and arch under his caress, her hips tilting, wordlessly searching for more.

He gave her what she sought, pulling aside the fabric that hindered his fingers from probing and dipping into her warmth. Nails dug into his arse and he grinned against her lips.

Pulling back, he slid a finger past her folds and inside her, watching rapture take her captive as he added another, curving the digits upward to push against ridged flesh.

Jon took in the pleasure visible in her form and her lilac gaze morphing into a stormy violet, the scent of her arousal making his mouth water and move his fingers deeper in and slowly out of her, the fleshy sounds making his trousers feel too constricting with his thickening cock. Powerful thighs wound higher up his body only to fall on either side of him when he quickened the movement of his fingers, his thumb joining the fray as it dipped into the juices coating his fingers before rubbing her swollen clit.

It was a beautiful crescendo, the escalation of her ecstasy, and he happily watched, transfixed, as she drew closer to orgasm.

With one last pass of his thumb over her clit and a hard push of his fingers she came in his arms, her back and hips arched as she froze, mouth parted as her body quaked from the strength of her release.

Letting her ride his fingers, he continued easing them in and out of her, capturing only her bottom lip with his teeth to allow her time to breathe and return to him. When she did he captured her mouth and kissed until she tore her lips from his to inhale deeply.

When her wits returned to her she rid him of his jacket, breathless still as she did so, and he could do no more than help her by pulling his fingers from her honeyed depths, bewitched by her unearthly beauty.

The smell of her essence still lingered in between them, slick and tacky in his fingers and palm. He breathed deeply as the scent wafted to his nostrils, making him hazy with the desire to bury himself where his hands had just been.

He didn't know his chin had been lowered until she moulded her palm to the chiseled curve of his jaw and drew him closer, softly planting her lips upon his. Tenderly, she kissed him, melting away the angst in his heart and the heaviness that whispered of how wrong this was no matter how right it felt.

Her hands slid from his jaw and nape to unclasp his suspenders, unbutton and unzip his trousers, which pooled around his feet.

"Get these off," she rasped, pushing down at his boxers before her nails scratched at his black dress shirt in supplication.

He did as she commanded, loth to deny her anything, blown away by the crazed look in her eyes, her pupils fat and dilated.

* * *

Boxers pushed down, his erection sprang free, thick and red and weeping, making Daenerys clench at the sight of it. She took him in hand, pumping him just to feel his heart beat echoed by his cock, then positioned him at her entrance, smearing her wetness with the fat blunted head of his cock.

She looked up from where they were nearly joined to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, smiling sweetly at him before nodding. Her hands came to clutch at his sides, fisting flesh under fabric, pulling him forward and biting her lower lip as he split her folds and seated him within her vise.

He ferried her knees in the crook of his arms, securing her as he picked up a rhythm that drove her to greater heights with each thrust. His eyes were on her, half-lidded and heavy, his lower lip prisoner between his teeth as he cleaved her walls with every jut of his hips.

Pushing off of the shelf, she rolled her hips into his and stole an exhale from his parted mouth with her own, depriving him of a gulp of air, feeling him inhale through his nose instead as she insistently kissed him, messily, frantically.

She wrapped her legs around him, locking him within her, taking care not to scratch him with the heels of her stilettos. Notched between the cradle of her hips and the embrace of her strong thighs, he rutted against her, circling his hips and pushing against her with as much strength as he could, making a million colours flash before her closed eyes.

His hand snaked to where they were joined, stroked her, and she was done, surrendering to the all-consuming sensation and crying her climax into the dimly-lit drawing room, clutching at her nephew and keeping him still as she fluttered around his throbbing cock.

Warm lips pressed against the back of her ear as she rode out her orgasm, and she could feel him blowing puffs of air against her skin as he continued rocking, languid movements that stoked her momentarily sated hunger for him.

He was still hard inside her, her tight clasp fitting him like a glove. She shuddered deliciously, moaning against the side of his face as he let her legs down gently, running hands from her thighs up her back, then framing her neck lightly and settling his forehead to hers.

When his eyes opened to meet hers, so full of love, she had to tamp down the urge to weep, happiness filling her chest like a balloon.

“Dany.”

A kiss placed upon her neck.

“Dany.”

Fingers brushed from her neck down to her back.

“Dany.”

His facial hair prickled and tickled her chin and jaw as he resurfaced from her neck.

She shivered when his other hand joined the one that caught at the latch and zipper of her dress. She nodded her consent against his face, a small smile blooming on her lips.

The sound of her dress being unzipped was amplified, arousal reigniting in her womb. She moaned, breathless, when he slipped out of her after giving her space to stand before him.

Back on shaky feet, with her dress undone the fabric fell around her feet as she stood, and she stepped out of them, pushing down at his boxers as she did so.

Jon stepped out of his trousers and boxers after toeing off his shoes.

Standing before him in nothing more than her black lace trim thong and heels, she felt like a queen, having such power over the man before her, her own flesh and blood. She delighted in the jerk of his length as he took her in, his eyes alight with the same fire she was certain lit her own.

Spurred to action by the need to give him the same pleasure he’d generously given her, Dany pushed at his chest, directing him to the plush, red camelback couch until the backs of his knees hit its velveted front rail.

“Sit,” she ordered, biting the inside of her cheek when he did and helped her remove the final article of clothing on her person, hands on his sculpted shoulders.

He reclined on the chair as she knelt astride him, busying her hands with unbuttoning his dress shirt, so she could feel the ripped planes of his torso. He didn’t help her in her endeavour, visibly enjoying the silky feel of her bared skin under his caresses, sliding his hands from her thighs to her sides to the flat plane of her stomach.

She arched, encouraging him to learn her body, anything within his reach, her hips rolling forward and her wet cunt rubbing against his rigid length. He groaned just as she finished with his buttons, baring his chest and stomach for her to rake her nails down until she reached the line of sable hair that led to his cock.

Bending forward she met his lips, finding that she could no longer last long without tasting them. When she had her fill, she moved her mouth to scatter unhurried kisses down his jaw to the dip between his clavicle. Knowing it would be covered by his shirt, she suckled on the surrounding area, smiling when he shifted his hips upward with a groan at her ministrations. She leaned back to examine her handicraft when she was done. Satisfied, she leaned forward to take his nipple in her mouth, sucking and nipping playfully at it, loving the feel of his hands mussing her hair and gripping her flank possessively. She bestowed the same attention to his other nipple, smiling against his skin.

Her juices coated her thighs, coated _him_ , and no longer able to deny him his release, she sat straighter, holding onto the back of the couch while she took him in hand and impaled herself on his cock inch by glorious inch, sinking over him.

Jaw slackened, the sensations drew her closer to madness, feeling him throb within her sheath.

Impatiently, he gripped her flanks and drew her down swiftly, seating himself fully inside her, making her cry out from both pleasure and pain.

White-knuckled, she clutched at the cushions hard when he helped lift her up only to pull her back down, his cock kissing her womb. Her head nestled by the side of his face, her breaths coming out in ragged pants as he caught a nipple with his mouth and suckled while he continued pushing up into her.

At a particularly hard downward stroke she hissed from the pain, her hands coming together at his midsection before taking his hands from her flanks to move them up her body and redirect them to her breasts. Understanding, Jon fondled her pert mounds, giving her time to recover.

When the pain eased into a dull throb she straightened and grasped at the back of the cushions once more, taking the lead in their dance, riding him slowly at first, then faster and harder as his cock rubbed her clit and her walls and stroked her into a frenzy.

Moving from her breasts, she felt one of his arms wrap around her while the other slid down to cup her arse, aiding her frantic motions. He shifted further back on the couch and buried his face where her neck and shoulder met, breathing heavily as he held on to whatever shrapnel of control he still had left.

“Jon,” she whimpered, close to the edge but wanting him there with her, wanting him to fall with her when she let go. She rolled her hips harder, urging him with sweet nothings against his ear, telling him how good he felt inside her, how _thick_ \- filthy words unbecoming of a lady. She didn’t care, as long as her words served their purpose. She wanted to feel him fill her, have her brimming with the evidence of his love and his desire.

Jon surprised her by turning them over so her back rested against the plush seat cushions, her head pillowed by the arm rest and he was now in between her legs, still embedded inside her. One knee on the cushions, he extended the other leg to the floor, to give him stability as he resumed fucking her.

* * *

Before she could even react, Jon wasted no time in rutting mindlessly in and out of her, robbing her of breath and any coherent thought.

He looked upon Dany as he made love to her, flushed and soft skin misted with sweat, and moonspun hair fanned around her like a halo.

 _His_.

Flesh and blood; his _aunt_ , his. 

The thought, both thrilling and sinful, sent a jolt throughout his being that made him shove into her, one hand braced by her side as he anchored one of her legs while the other wrapped underneath her, pulling her arse to meet each onslaught of his hips.

She was crying out in seconds, her nails scratching angry lines down his clothed back and his bare arse as she pulled him into her harder and faster and harder until her back bowed, and he buried himself within her depths as she came, shaking violently while her cunt erupted around him, wetness leaking from where they were joined.

It took no more than a few thrusts before he stilled, groaning gutturally against her breasts as he pumped her full of his seed.

Sweet kisses rained over the crown of his head and soft fingers brushed his curls and drew circles across his back as he pulsed within her, until he softened and slipped out, and until silence, the rapid beating of their heart, and their heavy breathing were the only sounds in the room.

“Come here,” she pulled at his arms, making room for him to join her fully on the couch.

He breathed deeply at the smell of sex in the room and the sight of his seed marring her pristine skin as he pulled out, the sensation making her moan.

The sight was so erotic, but it made his breath catch at the realisation of what he’d just done.

He came inside her.

She called his name, rubbing his arms as he lowered himself to settle beside her.

“It’s okay,” she hushed him as his arms wrapped around her, a calm look on her beautiful face. “I’m on the pill,” she quietly reassured him. “You don’t have to worry.”

With her words relief showered over him, and he embraced her tightly against him, his lips landing over the shell of her ear. Her fingers toyed at the dragon-shaped cufflinks, twisting them this way and that, japing about how they should have removed his dress shirt, too. He only chuckled against her hair.

“That was wonderful,” she hummed, her fingers interlacing with his over her chest.

Their lips met when she turned her head to look at him. Softly, languidly, they basked in what had just transpired.

When they parted, his lips settled over her forehead, breathing in her scent as he gently, seriously asked, “How are we going to do this?”

Squeezing the fingers entwined with hers, she promised him, “Together.”

* * *

If his looks from before they’d made love were already incinerating in its intensity, Daenerys simply disintegrated from the way his eyes devoured her, now.  

She indulged in his attention, her heart full and brimming with the joy of having him, heart, body, and soul.

After they’d spoken of the hows, ifs, wheres and whatnots, they had parted with a sound kiss, Daenerys leaving the room to freshen up and retouch her makeup and Jon flipping the stained seat cushion marked with his seed and her release before he rejoined the affair whose guests were none the wiser.

A renewed vigour had struck her when she reappeared, exceeding her targeted goal for donations.

She had already been certain it was love, what she and Jon had, but having the resonating flutter in her heart and the brighter smile on her face as further proof didn’t hurt.

She was light as a feather, the high of newly consummated love all-encompassing. Willingly, happily, she succumbed to it.

It was also beautiful to see how Jon’s mood had also brightened. He was chatting people up as well, his rare smiles making an appearance more frequently that night.

Truthfully, they weren’t certain how their family would take it, but they would tell them at one point as their relationship grew more serious. Truly, as long as he was with her, as long as they had each other, she knew nothing else really mattered.

His gaze had followed her throughout the night, and during the times they’d stood before one another, conversing with other people, their eyes met and she fluttered upon knowing she’d marked him where no one could see, had tasted that bobbing apple on his throat mere hours ago, among many other things.

At one point her eyes glazed over and he had smiled wickedly at her before walking away with a near-predatory glint in his eyes. She cursed him lovingly in her mind, swearing to make him pay when they met at her loft in the city after the gala.

A dangerous game, people would say, but it wasn’t a game, not to them. It was a seed that needed nurturing, needed love and trust to grow, to weather the cruel world they lived in. Theirs was a love forged by the Gods- they hadn’t intended this to happen, have fought long enough to stay feelings that simply could not be set aside.

Theirs was a different dance of dragons; one where love reigned.

As she spoke with a woman who was willing to donate a million Golden Dragons, the heat of his stare cloaked her with its weight. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, no. It was inconveniently _arousing_ , and she simply couldn’t run off and drag him along without raising questions.

Her cunt throbbed in a pleasurable ache, the remnants of his seed that she was unable to wash off after a quick retouch in her old quarters still within her depths.

She swallowed thickly, reminding herself to be professional, to not get too caught up lest people start to notice her swooning over her nephew.

“My dear,” Olenna cleared her throat, “Maybe you should call it a night.”

Her face was unreadable. The Queen of Thorns people called her. Quick of tongue and highly intelligent, nothing went past her.

Dany chastised herself for being too distracted, for being to overcome.

“The night is still young, Mrs. Tyrell,” she smiled brightly, hoping to distract the woman from wherever she might take the conversation to.

“Oh, hush,” Olenna waved her hand. “A fine young dragon like you must have other… matters to attend to.”

Face flushed pink, she had nothing else to say as the older woman surreptitiously nodded behind her where she knew Jon was standing a few metres away.

“Daenerys Stormborn,” the Tyrell matriarch smiled, scary and sweet, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You are not the first dragon to love your own.”

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone else who keeps reading what I write, thank you for joining me in my many writing escapades this year. 
> 
> I know they're not the longest, but I hope I was able to provide you all a momentary escape from real life, because real life is too real sometimes. 
> 
> Happy New Year! <3


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